Just when you think you’ve seen all the weirdness NYC has to offer, you stumble across a party like this.

Dressed like a normal person and expecting another uneventful clubbing night out, I unsuspectingly found myself at the Kostume Kult and Disorient’s annual Black and Light ball at Comix, an experience which can only be described as “jaw dropping.” Different artistic projects took place throughout the party which ranged from a mock Vogue-style photo shoot to performance art involving laptops and wall projections, and body painting with spay cans. Then you had your rave areas in the large back room and downstairs.

The Kostume Kult goes to Burning Man every year, so the party doubled as a fundraiser for their camp. I have an endlessly fascination with Burning Man and suggest that anyone unaware of the tradition read about it here. Amongst the black lit carnival, I felt like the freak as I sipped an amaretto in a plain black dress among

-People with neon afro wigs larger than the circumference of my closet

-Naked couples wearing only body paint, sheathes, and nipple covers (my favorite were the orange leopards with gold tassels on their boobs)

-Dresses that left one breast exposed

-Transparent skirts that left vaginas exposed

-Colorful fake eyelashes long enough to be a fire hazard on the dance floor

-Enough glitter to fill an Olympic size pool

-More colors of pleather than I knew existed

I’d need to drop some acid in order to even come up with a costume as unique and creative as these folks did. I didn’t end up doing much partying as the visual fun of this circus kept me continually aghast. My friend and I spent so much time admiring the kult’s ensembles and postulating which couples had the craziest sex that we even forgot to drink! Imagine!

A video of what it’s all about here,

Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com

Just when you’re trying to enjoy yourself at a space saucer like Mansion where the music’s intense, the disco lights are trauma-inducing and it takes twenty minutes to scale the six staircases to the bathroom, the club fades to black and a girl with butterflies in her cascading hair starts busting out some opera. Because isn’t this why we all go to clubs? To hear whacky versions of Verdi?

I’m confused.

I’ve known Mansion is into doing shows: Last time, I witnessed some electronic string quartet jam along with the DJ. Naturally, everyone remained bewildered about whether to continue dancing or to give the string instruments their full attention while sitting attentively feigning an interest in art. This is what I don’t get. Mansion is as clubby as a club gets. No amount of luxury renovation can kill the Crobar spirit that permanently haunts this space. Why the bouts of Lincoln Center?

Are they trying to pull a theater thing like The Box?

Are they trying to culture the club experience?

Do they consider such spectacles a selling point?

How much is this costing them on top of their frightening rent?

I’m thirsty for theater as much as the next overworked New Yorker, but is when I’m chilling with my fifth cocktail really the time I want it chucked in my face?

Next time at Mansion, I’ll consider packing both earplugs and opera glasses.

Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com

Once you’ve lived in New York five years, you think you’ve seen the maximum douchiness this city has to offer. Alas, no. This past weekend at Upstairs a promoter who’ll I leave nameless thought it would be fun to toss stacks of single dollar bills into the air like confetti to swirl down around his table every time they purchased a bottle of champagne. This occurred not once, but twice.

Patrons were unsure whether to cheer, drop to their knees to pick up the stray cash like peasants, or shield their drinks from the down-pouring greenery. While I did appreciate feeling like I was momentarily in a Cameron Crowe movie, this kind of uncalled for ostentatious behavior is hard to justify. Now if they were throwing hundreds and which I could actually keep, that would be a different story.

*Note: As a dedicated journalist, I tried to capture this horrific nightlife moment on my camera. Come to find out, taking action photos of swirling cash in a dark club without warning is extremely challenging. Needless to say I failed, but the image remains forever imprinted on my brain.

Miss Model Behavior’s the new nightlife writer for theBlaqlist.com. Feel free to post any nightlife comments or questions on our forum or contact her at MissModelBehavior@theBlaqlist.com